


My Psychopharmacologist and I

by sanscomment



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crazy Stiles, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Medication, Worried Sheriff Stilinski, psychopharamacology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1674275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanscomment/pseuds/sanscomment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU.  Stiles was never the same after his mother died (although if you ask him, she never actually died).  He can still hear her.  He can still see her.  Everyone who knows him knows that he's "crazy Stiles Stilinski."  But how crazy is he?  His therapist sends him to a facility just outside of Beacon Hills where he meets a counselor named Derek Hale.  He doesn't think that Stiles is crazy.  The question is, can he help the boy who just wants to be left alone?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles. His name was Stiles. No one called him by his other name since his mother died. Only his mother was allowed to call him that. Most of his ‘friends’ didn’t know his name. If they did, they knew damn well not to use it. It was one of the many things that could set Stiles off. The teen was surprised that he even had friends. They considered him a friend, but to him they were nothing more than acquaintances. Ever since his mother died, he had grown distant. Even his father could no longer read him. Part of Stiles knew that it upset the man, but a larger part of him truly didn’t care. 

His father left him at the hospital while his mother was dying. His father wasn’t there to console him as his tiny body sobbed into Melissa McCall’s arms when they pulled him off of his mother’s dead body. His father sent him to doctors to try and “fix” him when Stiles didn’t want to be fixed. He hated his father. 

“I’m not taking any more of her fucking pills,” he growled angrily as he threw the new bottle of pills across the room. The sheriff was at a loss for what to do with his son. He had been doing so well on his latest cocktail of medications, but Stiles had an episode and went off them cold turkey, leading them into the current arguments.

“Stiles,” the older man sighed, blocking his son’s pathway out of his room. “You know what Dr. Jameson said. If you take them, you can go back to school. You can spend time with your friends. You can be normal.”

“I am normal!” Stiles shouted. His father’s words hurt him. According to Stiles, he was as normal as normal could get. According to everyone else, he was batshit crazy. The boy had violent mood swings. He could go from being happy and easy going to trying to rip someone’s head off for saying the wrong thing. Sometimes there was no trigger. Something just snapped inside of him. He was a loose cannon that even his old friends shied away from. 

“Please don’t make me ground you, Stiles.”

“Go ahead, John.” Now Stiles was saying this to purposely rub his father the wrong way. “What difference is it going to make? You never let me leave the house except to go to appointments, and it’s not like I can drive.” 

“If you take your medicine like you’re supposed to, you could drive. You could have the Jeep and I’d teach you how to drive, but you have to be stable to drive. Those aren’t my rules; those are the state’s rules.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Is that why you lock me in my room at night? Hm? Is that why you have to watch me shave? Why I’m not allowed to do anything?!” Talking to Stiles was like talking to a wall at times. He saw things his way and there was no other option. “Why you’re poisoning me with shit like this?” He grabbed another container of his medicine and threw it at his father. 

“It’s not poison if it’s helping you, Stiles. Can’t you see that?” His voice was quiet and Stiles knew he almost won the fight. He was so close he could taste victory. His father was caving. 

“Mom wouldn’t make me take them.”

Without another word, John turned and closed the door to his son’s room. Stiles didn’t even bother checking to see if he was truly grounded or not. He was sick of all this. While part of him understood that he needed all the help and supervision that his father was giving him, he didn’t want it. He wanted to feel safe, but not because there were always eyes on him. He wanted to feel safe because he was.

The new drugs made him physically sick, and they made his mom go away. She was dead, but not to him. In his mind, she was very much alive. He used to converse with her on an almost daily basis. Sometimes he’d only hear her, other times he might physically see her. He might actually feel her arms wrap around him. That was the safety he needed. 

No matter how many people told him that his mother was dead, or forced him to go stare at her grave, he didn’t want to believe it. How could he still hear and see her if she was gone? The first few years after her death, Stiles dealt with it the best that he could. As soon as he hit puberty, everything changed. Something in his mind snapped. 

At first, he truly believed himself to be crazy. The first time he heard his mother’s voice, he turned around so quickly that he made himself dizzy. When it started happening again and again, he sought help. Then he started seeing her from a distance and hearing her voice in his head. By the time his dad realized what was happening, Stiles was in the psych unit at the hospital. 

His grades dropped. He shut himself off around his friend. There were days when he would sit in his room and talk to his mother for hours. He wasn’t crazy. He knew that his mother was there and talking to him. 

When his friends tried to help him, he got violent. He remembered tackling Scott to the ground and punching him multiple times before the teachers managed to pull him off of his best friend. They stopped talking after that. In fact, the only person that gave Stiles the time of day after that was Lydia. They were never great friends, but she was assigned to tutor him in several of his classes. 

She was the lone person that he could tolerate. She never told him that he was crazy. She never tried to force him into anything. She listened to him instead of pretending to. 

It wasn’t surprising when he heard a gentle knock at the door. “Stiles?” Lydia’s voice was easily recognizable and he slowly stood and opened the door, a little shaky on his feet. She smiled when she saw him and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. It took him a moment before he returned it. After a few moments, they released each other and Stiles went back over to his bed, falling onto it and staring at the ceiling. 

“He called in the reinforcements, I see?” he sighed.

Lydia sat down next to him on the bed and shook her head. “Actually, you have a test for Physics to do this afternoon, and I’m here to make sure you do it.” 

Stiles groaned. Out of all the classes he worked on, he hated physics. Still, he was thankful that Lydia was there. If his father did call her, she did a good job at covering it up. “Can’t I do it tomorrow, I’ve had a not so good day.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“You sound like my therapist, Lydia. No, I don’t want to talk about it.” Lydia was one of the few people Stiles would open up to, if he was ever in the mood to open up. Today was not one of those days.

“I understand. Now. About that physics test…”

\-------------

Stiles barely left his room over the next few days. He read a book. He listened to music. He stared out the window. After day three of being off of the meds, he finally heard her. 

“Sweetheart?”

Stiles turned so fast that he had to catch himself on the wall. “Mom?” He could barely make her out, but he could see his mother standing by the window, her form flickering slightly. He tumbled forwards and wrapped his arms around the air. He couldn’t feel her in his arms, but he could feel her presence. “Mom, I missed you.”

“I’ve been here the whole time, baby. You just couldn’t hear me.”

“I can hear you now. I can hear you. Please don’t leave again.”

“Never, sweetheart. Never.”

Outside the door, Sheriff Stilinski could hear his son talking to his wife, and he knew what he had to do.


	2. Chapter 2

“Why are you doing this?” Stiles half-shouted at his father as they got into the car. Stiles didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. When his father didn’t answer, Stiles crossed his arms and glared at him from the passenger’s seat of the car. 

After a long silence, the sheriff finally sighed and looked over at his son. “It’s for your own good.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes at that. “Of course it is. It’s all for my own good, right? The pills, the constant surveillance, the lack of privacy, the lack of freedom…”

“Stiles.” 

Huffing, the teen turned to look out the window as his father started the car. This place was supposed to help him. It was full of kids with similar problems. For now it was just the weekends until summer, and Stiles wasn’t quite sure if he could handle that. He was rather fond of his weekends spent online or with his nose buried in a book. He didn’t want to talk to other people, especially not people that believed him to be crazy. Thoughts drifted in and out of Stiles’ mind, never fully focusing on anything. When he went off his drugs, he gave up the Adderall as well. 

This was not his idea of fun. He was going to be in a place with a bunch of other boys. They were going to force him to take his meds and make sure he took them. He read the pamphlet that his therapist gave to his father. He knew what he was in for and wanted nothing to do with any of it. Fingers drummed on the side of the car to break up the silence. Stiles wasn’t about to talk to his father, and his father knew damn well not to try to talk to him; not when he was in this kind of state. 

After sitting in terse silence for nearly an hour, they pulled up to a rather boring looking campground. “We’re here.” 

“No shit.” This was where his father was abandoning him again, only this time it was ‘for his own good.’ It was bullshit and he hated every moment of this. His father opened the trunk and pulled out his backpack and pillow, handing it to his son. He wasn’t even allowed to bring anything except for a change of clothing. No cell phone. No computer. No books. Nothing. Talk about one hell of a punishment. 

Stiles grabbed his things from his father and made his way towards the big building, his father following him. The teen was not amused. If looks could kill, his father would have died a few times over. As they walked, Stiles struggled to fight off the impending panic attack. The Xanax was the only drug he would willingly take because it was the only thing that could save him from these terrible feelings. He dropped his bag on the floor as his father walked up to the receptionist and leaned against the wall. 

Deep breaths, Stiles. Deep breaths. He normally could coax himself down, not wanting to dig through his bag for his Xanax and cause a scene. The boy slowly slid down the wall until his butt hit the ground. Deep breaths, Stiles.

In.

Out.

Deep breaths.

“Don’t hold your breath, Stiles.” His eyes drifted shut as his mother’s voice invaded his mind. He couldn’t feel her presence, but he knew that she was there with him. “You can do this, sweetheart. Just breathe.” Her words were always calming to him and soon he managed to relax against the wall, tilting his head back until it made contact. When he finally decided to open his eyes, there were three people staring at him: his father and two strangers. One had curly dirty-blond hair and icy blue eyes. The other was older. Tall, dark, and handsome (as his mother would have said). 

“You okay?” his father asked. 

Stiles huffed and slowly stood up. “Just got tired of standing.” 

“Don’t lie.” His eyes shot over to the older man. 

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t lie. You’re pale as a ghost and look like death warmed over. We’re just here to help, so lying will only make this difficult on everyone.” His voice was strong and clearly Stiles had no choice but to listen to him. “I’m Derek Hale, and I’ll be the one responsible for you during your stay here. This is my student, Isaac. If you need anything, you’re to come to us.”

Stiles rolled his eyes again and swung his backpack on. “Let’s just get this over with.” He didn’t bother saying goodbye to his father, just started walking towards the entrance of the facility. 

“Bye Stiles,” his father called. Stiles ignored him and made his way in. Derek gently grabbed his arm and led him down a hallway. 

“I’ve read your file already, Stiles, and I know that you don’t want to be here.” Stiles scoffed, but Derek continued. “You have a meeting with the doctor first, and then we’re going to get you settled in your room.” Stiles didn’t respond to his words, just continued allowing the man to lead him towards the doctor. He didn’t need to have another person with a special degree telling him things that he already heard. 

While part of Stiles wanted to agree with them and tell them that he would be good and take his meds, the larger part of him didn’t want to give up his mom. He was so used to having her in his life again that the thought of losing her made him upset. 

“I can take your pillow while you’re in there if you want.” Derek offered.

Stiles glared at him and held it tight to his chest. “No one touches my pillow.” He knew he was too old to be so attached to the pillow, but it was his and it was comfortable. And it was his. His.

Derek held his hands up and took a step away. “Okay, well then you can sit here and the doctor will see you next.” Stiles sat in the chair and held his pillow to his chest as the two men walked away, finally leaving him alone. 

“You’re going to be okay,” his mother’s voice echoed in his head. “It’s just the weekend, and I’ll be with you the whole time. Even when you can’t hear me, I’m always with you. Always.” 

“Thanks mom,” he whispered. He wasn’t about to admit out loud that he was scared. These things terrified him. The drugs were like a poison to his body, and he didn’t want them anymore. All he wanted was to be left alone. Was that so much to ask?

“Honey, stay strong. I know that you’re scared, and that’s okay. It’s okay to be scared.”

Stiles tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling, trying to will the tears back into his eyes. “I don’t want to be weak,” he whispered. 

“You’re not weak, you’re so strong. You have so much to offer, I just wish your father could see it.” 

Stiles was about to ask what she meant by that when the doctor called him into the office. 

Here went nothing.


End file.
